


Marry the Night

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-12
Updated: 2011-11-12
Packaged: 2017-12-12 14:33:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/812661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I don’t know what part of it I made up.” Gently trimmed brows furrowed and Alfred reached over for the bottle and stole a smaller drink from it, grimacing as the drink scalded him and settled uneasily in his gut. He wasn’t fond of heavy drinking this day and age and his throat had gotten tender.</p><p>“We both know you are liar. So probably all of it.” The words held little venom as he watched a manicured and lotioned hand slip through ashy blond hair. “Ha. Ha.” Alfred placed the drink was back down on the table and Ivan pulled it closer to himself, not to drink, but to merely possess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marry the Night

**Author's Note:**

> A very old fiction from a fanfic exchange! Intro modeled off the opening for "Marry the Night" by Lady Gaga. The extended version!

When I look back on what’s happened to us, over all these years. It’s not that I don’t like to remember how they happened. I just prefer to look back on them in a brighter way. And the falseness of it all is much more honest because I created it. It is the perfect picture of how I, America, experienced it. Memories are not renewed like a National Enquirer subscription. They can be lost forever. It is my job to fill in the blanks where I let my memory fail. I’m not dishonest; I just loathe reality. 

There’s something about the grainy film of a languid mind that just makes everything so much more romantic.

And so two men find themselves in a dark room (Ivan’s), with a bottle of moonshine (Alfred’s), and a direct order (theirs). Glassy blue eyes lazily lift from the grain of the wood table, where a splinter stuck up towards Alfred. “That’s what I said Bear.” Conversations half heard and cared even of less of, words forced into a restricting space. Ivan’s head lolled back, dry and cracked lips pressed together as he clutched the drink in his right hand and prepared to take a deep chug. 

 

The burn was stronger than vodka, much stronger, but Ivan’s throat was already scorched so he took a few more gulps before placing the bottle down lightly. “I heard you, but what is your meaning?”

“What I mean is I think I finally get this.” Alfred spread his arms forward over the table, stretching towards Ivan and peeking up at him over his glasses. “I do.” It was hardly surprising to the Soviet, the boy going and sort of displaying himself in this way. Confusion over messages were tossed aside and Ivan took none of the signal seriously. Just the way he handled the rest of the bright eyed boy.

“But I don’t. My mind’s kinda there and not.”  
“Did you start drinking before you got here Alfred?”  
“No, I swear. I know, but I don’t. It’s complicated.” Alfred straightened up, looking at the stubble covered chin of his adversary. “I don’t know what part of it I made up.” Gently trimmed brows furrowed and Alfred reached over for the bottle and stole a smaller drink from it, grimacing as the drink scalded him and settled uneasily in his gut. He wasn’t fond of heavy drinking this day and age and his throat had gotten tender.

Ivan’s neck cracked as he sat forwards, annoyance and intrigue rising. The other just watched how he seemingly locked himself into a stiff position, back perfectly straight and both boots flat on the ground. Alfred was surprised he was this composed after that much moonshine (three empty bottles lined the floor next to Ivan’s chair and Alfred almost wanted to gag thinking of himself drinking that much) but he wasn’t about to bring that up.

“We both know you are liar. So probably all of it.” The words held little venom as he watched a manicured and lotioned hand slip through ashy blond hair. “Ha. Ha.” Alfred placed the drink was back down on the table and Ivan pulled it closer to himself, not to drink, but to merely possess. 

“No, I bet you’ve done the same thing I do. You know all of those memories you got in that noggin, fuzzy and unclear. Some contradicting themselves if you think really hard? Well there’s some psychologist who say that a number of people’s memories are half forgotten. And our brains, being the funny little fuckers, they will fill in these blanks.”  
“Really.” Mild disinterest covers wonder over where exactly the other was going with this.

“Yeah, so I was thinking, how much of my past is a lie? How much of our past is a lie? We know what it is on a professional level but even that is different depending on a book’s bias. And how much of what I think of you is just the Feds messing with me? HUAC wanting to ‘keep me pure’? Have I forgotten the real Ivan?” The towering man in the other chair shrugged slightly, he didn’t think to much about his past with the American really. Only what was happening now and how to show his dominance. Thinking about Catherine, the little smiling colony, the 100 Years’ War, it was all a liability. He needed to keep his mind clear.

“See, one of my best memories of you is that one time I got to go see your boss after my war. I remember how nervous I was! Francis helped me pick out a blue frock coa—”  
“Green. The coat was green.” He corrected sharply and without properly looking at Alfred as he sank back into his chair. The American celebrated the remembrance as a small victory for himself and he relaxed back into his seat all the same.

“A green frock coat. And I remember your boss was a gorgeous woman, smart, noble, and my god was she bold. Like, really really bold. I think all the blood in my body went to my cheeks when she called me handsome.” Ivan gave an impolite snort, he remembered Catherine’s tastes for young men well. She had admitted being quite pleased that the colony she helped gain independence should be such a pretty boy.

“But here is what I blank out. I don’t remember what we did after a formal meeting and dinner. I remember something outside, I don’t really know what. Arthur tells me I came back from the trip looking a bit skiddish but I don’t think that’s right.”

Ivan is reluctant to give in to the memories his enemy stirs up and he resolutely keeps his mouth shut.

“Ives, please. I’m trying to make this work but you gotta help me out.”

“We played in the snow. I didn’t want to at first, I didn’t think it was proper for a man in my position. I eventually joined you. After we went inside and while we warmed up I told you folk tales. I believe I scared you with a Finnish one.”

A pause, Alfred trying desperately to pull up anything relating to what Ivan said to verify the story. When a small detail dredged itself up soon many followed.

“Finnish Santa is scary.” Alfred frowned as he barely remember details of a monster who hung humans from his horns. Ivan laughed at that, a hand resting low on his stomach as the closest thing to a smile Alfred had seen on him in decades showed itself.

“American Santa is weak and childish. A large hairy man with a beard and red cheeks, I can tell you where your Santa is. He is in Russia.”

“My Santa is so not Russian.”  
“He sounds very Russian, unlike small, hairless American.”  
“I’m hairless by choice Big Guy. The ladies love this shit.”  
“To bad you’re never with women. Do not think we all don’t know what you do with Kirkland.”

Alfred choked on his spit and coughed loudly, Ivan laughing once again as he watched Alfred go red in the face. Once Alfred regained control enough to, he gave a stiff upper lip and glared.  
“I don’t go that way. My government believes it unnatural.”  
“I believe that as much as I believe your hair is really blond.”

It’s quiet for a moment and Alfred sighs deeply, are his roots that noticeable right now?  
“I wasn’t aware this was ‘Be a Dick to America’ Day.”  
“You have a day for that? In Soviet Russia we call that everyday.” Ivan didn’t laugh at that, swirling the moonshine and seeming to bask in the glow of his own insults. Alfred noted that the entire atmosphere felt less tense. Ivan hasn’t drank any in the last few minutes, so he must be distracted laughing (at Alfred). And while he wasn’t a fan of this talk it seemed to amuse the other some and the whole point of them being here was to try and make better relations.

“Oh hush you. Now you’ve gotten me off track. Where were we? … Oh yeah! After the folk tales.”  
_______

“All don’t know what you do with Kirkland. Humph.” Alfred mocked the words and rolled his eyes as he laid in his bed. Years after the meeting with Ivan, which had gone quite well and pleased both bosses, he had managed to become rather ill and for some reason the words from decades ago rang in his head. His superiors had forced him into a bed and refused to let anyone in to see him while he rested up.

But the idea of not letting anyone in was shortly cut off when Arthur flew over to see him after his third day of sickness. He made Alfred a simple soup, and considering it was just bland and not oddly chunky he must have had help, and doted on him quite a bit. Having the older man around relaxed Alfred, and he felt a sort of repressed relief when they were alone and Alfred would let Arthur kiss his temple.

Arthur stood with him for a few days, from what Alfred could tell, his eyes never quite saw clearly and the room was usually dark besides a few small lights Arthur put on when he entered. It was how he knew the other was near, and when he could relax into the sheets and let himself be comforted.

The clock read 2:11AM when a few lights slowly glowed, the dimmer keeping it low. “Godric?” Alfred didn’t bother to try and lift himself and he just let his head turn on the pillow until he was facing the door. The shape moved from the doorway before Alfred could pin a silhouette and Arthur moved towards him. “You didn’t have to come back babe. Your people are going to miss you.” But Alfred was smiling and curling his toes, selfishly pleased Arthur was staying with him instead of heading back.

“You need to go back soon.” Alfred felt a cool rag be placed on his head and he shut his eyes as some sweat was blotted off his forehead. Arthur leaned down and Alfred could feel breath against his ear but Alfred shrunk away. “Close the door, it’s ajar.” His shoulders straightened suddenly, turning and shuffling to the door to shut it firmly.

As soon as the door clicked into place Arthur returned to him, kneeling by the bed and pressing a light kiss to his cheekbone. Alfred shrunk away playfully and chuckled, sound a bit distorted by the gravel of his voice. “M’ sick, keep kissin’ me and you’ll be sick too.” But Arthur didn’t let up, and the only part that touched Alfred were his lips as he pecked the corner of Alfred’s lips before kissing him quite firmly on them. Alfred was shocked by Arthur’s enthusiasm to kiss an ill man but he reciprocated and soon Alfred was lured to part his lips for him.

The door gently opened just then, only gathering attention when it was slammed into the wall. “You get off of Alfred!” It was Arthur’s voice, but wasn’t he…?

Oh.  
Oh.

Alfred used all the strength he had left to push the other away by the shoulders, blinking rapidly and rubbing his eyes until he could make out a large nose and violet eyes in the low light. “Ivan? Oh God, Arthur, I swear I thought it was you!”

The Englishman crossed the room and situated himself between Alfred and Ivan, the latter looking crestfallen that he had been interrupted. “I believe you lad, what I don’t know is how Russia even got in here. And why he’d do this?” Alfred sat up and pressed his slightly damp forehead against Arthur’s sleeve, sniffing faintly and glaring up at Ivan. “You heard Art, why are you here?”

“I was feeling loving, and I figured this would just be a memory you would write over. So it’s okay if I do this.” Ivan slowly backed out of the room, shutting the door as gently as Arthur had first opened it and Alfred pressed his face into Arthur’s chest.

“I’m so sorry babe, I thought it was you. I couldn’t see and I am just so tired.”  
“It’s okay pup, rest. Shall I make you some of those chocolate scones you’re so fond of. You already ate up the last batch.”

“…Can you make them with extra chocolate chips?”  
“Just for you love.” 

Alfred laid back in bed and waited until Arthur was out of the room to frown. He was relieved Arthur had believed him so readily, he always was a logical sort. He never feared living a drama with Arthur. But there was something about foreign lips that made his gut clench and his eyes widen.

He didn’t think he would be forgetting this


End file.
